


A Different Kind of Game

by Lawnmowergirl



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Chess, F/M, Mild Smut, Strip Games, it's fricking Cherry Limeade strip chess what more could you possibly ask for, really amateur chess though, slight AU, they don't share a body in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-15 12:46:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lawnmowergirl/pseuds/Lawnmowergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Typical cherub mating rituals do not involve playful wagers, flirting, or admiring each other's naked bodies. And they definitely, absolutely, certainly don't involve love. That would be really sick and twisted.</p><p>The last two surviving members of the species are just that kinky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Kind of Game

 

Calliope awoke from her nap to find her roommate setting up the chessboard. “What in the world are you doing?” she asked as she blinked away the fog of sleep and noticed he had paused to, apparently, count how many articles of clothing he was wearing.

“Ah, excellent,” Caliborn said, ignoring the actual question. “You’re awake. Now the fun can begin. Woul–”

“No.” She didn’t let him finish the phrase she’d heard him say a thousand times. “I don’t want to play a game. Sorry, Cal, but I’d much rather simply work on my fanfictions today. ”

“Well. Fine. Write your inane fucking smut. See if I care. But know this: by choosing to deny my demands in favor of your _perverted fantasies_ , you’ll be missing the opportunity to…ugh… _experience_ them in reality.” And yes, there was that rude gesture he was so fond of.

“Wait a minute, what did you just…hang on, Caliborn, what do you mean by that?” Calliope was curious, and, although she didn’t want to admit it, more than a bit hopeful that he’d said what she thought he’d said.

“I mean, _Callie_ , that I was…in the mood for something… _depraved_ , but that slut Dirk wasn’t available, so I decided to see if _you_ might be willing to indulge me instead.” He nudged the last pawn into place, smirking.

Calliope rolled her eyes. “You _do_ realize you could easily talk to Dirk at any point in his timeline you choose, yes?”

Caliborn growled and slammed his hands down on the board, sending half of the pieces flying, some of them skittering across the board and onto the floor. One knight rolled all the way across the room to stop at Calliope’s feet. “Well. _Excuse_ me,”he spat, as she sighed and crouched down to retrieve it, “for wanting to let you in on the fun for once. You ungrateful bitch.”

“And just exactly what does said ‘fun’ entail?” Calliope asked, standing up slowly. “I’ve told you numerous times that none of the things you make Mr. Strider draw for you are anywhere near as kinky as you make them out to be. Just because displays of romantic affection fly in the face of every aspect of our species’  reproductive rituals, that doesn’t make them perverted or deviant practices, you know! After all, in a matespritship or human romance–”

Caliborn cut her off. “ _No_. I don’t want to fucking hear about… _‘reproductive rituals’._ Fuck that noise. It’s too disgusting, even for _me_. Just shut up with your xenoanthropological fuckery and tell me whether or not you’d like to commence with making strip chess a thing that we are doing.”

After a few moments of thought, Calliope smiled wryly. “Sure, I’ll play. I don’t see why the bloody hell not.”

Her roommate contorted his mouth into an almost predatory grin. “Mmm… _excellent._ Just let me get the board set up again.”

* * *

The two young cherubs sat on opposite sides of the chessboard, Calliope with an army of green and Caliborn commanding the red pieces.

“So, precisely how is this going to work?” Calliope asked, idly tapping her claws on the edge of the table.

“It’s simple,” he answered in a voice that seemed to be mocking her for having to ask. “For every piece one of us captures. The other has to remove one article of their own clothing.”

“But what about the pawns?”

“The fuck do you mean, ’what about the pawns’?”

“Look, Caliborn, I’m wearing my coat, skirt, knickers, bowtie, and supportive undershirt. That’s one item for each higher-value piece, minus the king for obvious reasons. And assuming you don’t secretly have nothing on underneath your trousers, you’re wearing the same number of things as I am if we count your braces–”

“Braces?”

Calliope sighed. “…if we count your ‘suspenders’ as two things.”

“They’re connected in the fucking back. I thought you would know that. Look. I’ll just go get my overcoat.”

“That hideous, musty old thing?”

Caliborn flipped her off with both hands as he got up to fetch it.

“Fine, go ahead,” she teased. “It wouldn’t be fair to start you off with an extra disadvantage. Goodness knows you already need all the help you can get!”

“Oh, fuck you,” Caliborn said, pulling the massively oversized coat on. It was so big that even the sleeves dragged on the floor. He nearly tripped over one brightly-striped cuff on his way back to the table, causing Calliope to giggle uncontrollably.

He glared as he sat back down across from her and rolled up his sleeves. “Let’s just decide what the pawns will mean and get this delightfully unsavory game started, shall we?”

Calliope answered without hesitation. “Kisses.”

“Oh, Callie…That is just so fantastically _filthy_. I like the way you think. Now, are you ready to play?”

“Absol _u_ tely!”

* * *

“Pawn to E5,” Caliborn said, almost carelessly, sliding the piece forward two squares.

“Pawn to F3.”

“Bishop to C5.” He would take her knight if she didn’t move it.

Calliope tsked. “Knight to H3.”

“Queen to E7.” There was nothing important Caliborn could do at this point.

“Queen to G3.”

“Knight to F6.”

“Queen to G7!” Calliope announced triumphantly, knocking Caliborn’s pawn over with a flourish. It toppled over and rolled off the board into his lap.

He looked nonplussed for a moment as she stood up. 

“Come on, Cal!” she groaned. “I took your pawn, so I get to kiss you! And if we try to kiss across the bloody chessboard, your sleeves will knock all of the pieces over!”

Caliborn pushed his chair back with a start and started to stand up carefully so he wouldn’t trip on his overcoat. He seemed almost flustered, which made it considerably less intimidating for Calliope to close the distance between them and kiss him on the cheek. In a brief moment of nervousness, she forgot she had to pull her lips out over her teeth, so she ended up gently bumping her fangs against the red swirl on Caliborn’s cheek. But judging by the way he actually had to suppress a moan as he teeth touched his face, he didn’t seem to care that Calliope had done it wrong.

She was starting to get excited about this. After all, if _that_ was his reaction to a flubbed cheek kiss, how would he respond to other things? 

They sat back down and she watched Caliborn try not to smile as he decided what to do next. He went to make a move and Calliope stopped him.

“I’m afraid you can’t castle now,” she said, pointing at the board with a smirk on her face. “It would put you in check.”

Caliborn grumbled. “Rook to E8.”

“Knight to C3.” 

“Bishop to F2.” It would be surrounded but safe there, closer to Calliope’s king to begin the infiltration…wait… _fuck_.

“Knight to F2~” Calliope sang. “The bishop is dead, your…whatever. Ah, I’ll let you decide what to take off. Agreed?”

Caliborn sighed and reached up to remove his bowtie, carefully holding his sleeves up so they wouldn’t knock over any of the chess pieces. Calliope watched a bit more intently than she meant to as he loosened the strip of scarlet fabric, slowly pulled it out of its knot, and dropped it next to the chessboard. “Queen to C5.”

“Knight to A4.” There. That would keep him from capturing it.

“Queen to F2!” Caliborn lifted her other knight, flung it across the room with a theatrical flourish, and practically slammed his queen down in its place.

“Oops.” Calliope shrugged good-naturedly and proceeded to take off her own bowtie as casually as possible. “Please don’t throw the pieces across the room, though.”

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want with them,” Caliborn sneered. “Unless you’d like to _forfeit_?” There was a certain emphasis on that last word that suggested to Calliope that a surrender would have unsavory consequences.

“Ugh. Never mind. Queen to F7.” She flicked the pawn over gently. Caliborn went to stand up, and she gestured for him to remain seated. “No, please do stay right there this time. Just push your chair back a bit.” 

Calliope smiled sweetly as she strode over to climb up onto his lap. It wasn’t a particularly comfortable arrangement for either of them because, being cherubs, they were all skin and bones and sharp bits, but that wasn’t really what mattered. She nestled her elbows on Caliborn’s shoulders and leaned forward to rub their nearly nonexistent noses together. It didn’t feel like much to her, but it was worth it to feel him shudder involuntarily in response.

She slid off his legs and walked back to her chair, blushing vibrantly. 

“Nnnn…what _was_ that?” Caliborn panted, “It was so… gguh… tender.”

“ _That_ , love, is called an ‘Eskimo kiss’,” Calliope replied cheerfully. She was always glad to share her extensive knowledge of alien cultural practices, especially where romance was concerned. “Unfortunately, the physiology of our species renders it less enjoyable for us than it is for humans or even trolls, if they were to do so. You see, they have softish, protruding noses, which are constructed mostly of cartilage…”

“Blah. Blah. Blah. Forget I asked.”

Calliope huffed. “Just make your next move.”

“Knight to A6.”

“Queen to F6! Oh my, you certainly are taking a beating.” She knocked over Caliborn’s knight (the one he hadn’t just moved) with her queen. “Check!”

He growled at her, then unclasped his suspenders and took them off. Calliope secretly hoped he was going to continue delaying the removal of his overcoat. As stupid as she considered the raggedy garment of dubious origin, she had to admit she was oddly fond of the thought of Caliborn wearing it and nothing else. 

“Why the fuck are you staring at me like that? No, don’t answer that. Rook to E7.”

“Pawn to G3.”

“Knight to B4.”

“Queen to F8. Check.”

“Rook to E8.”

“Queen to B4. There goes your other knight, I’m afraid!”

Caliborn somehow managed to wiggle out of his t-shirt without taking off the overcoat, but he nearly fell out of his chair twice in the process. Calliope giggled at first, then fell silent once she got a good look at his chest. Her eyes traced the subtle curves of his torso, slipping from rib to rib until he caught her staring again. Caliborn cleared his throat loudly and his opponent slid her gaze back to the chessboard.

“Pawn to D6.”   

“Bishop to H3.”

“Bishop to H3,” Caliborn announced triumphantly.

Calliope was puzzled. “Yes, that’s what I– oh, bollocks.”

“Haa. Haa. _Haa_. The bishop is dead. The bitch has to strip.”

“Ah, shut up, will you!” She shrugged off her beloved tailcoat as unsexily as she could, to spite him. “Now, let me see…pawn to B3.”

“Queen to G2.”

“Pawn to D3.”

“Pawn to B6.”

“Queen to H4. Check.”

“King to D7.”

“Queen to H7. Check, and I get to kiss you again! Stand up this time, please.”

Calliope faced Caliborn as he stood there with his arms hanging limply by his sides. She took one side of his overcoat in either hand and pulled him towards her. The coat was more than big enough for Calliope to wrap it around herself, surrounding them both with the strange green fabric. She felt the warmth of Caliborn’s bare chest and the spastic beating of his heart. It was surprisingly nice being so close to her ordinarily insufferable roommate, and she couldn’t help giggling at how much this was affecting him. 

“Are you going to fucking kiss me or what, you harlot?”

Sigh. Same old Caliborn. He was infinitely more pleasant when he wasn’t talking, Calliope mused.

This time she remembered that she needed to pull her fangs back into her mouth, but Caliborn didn’t. After a couple seconds of awkwardly pressing her lips against his teeth, she had to stop so she could demonstrate to him what he had to do. Surprisingly, he didn’t argue or insult her, but complied almost… _eagerly_. The two young cherubs just stood there pressing their cold, thin lips together until even Caliborn lost track of time.

Calliope let go of the coat, smiling in spite of herself.

“Nnn-never mention… _this_ to anyone.” Caliborn was starting to breathe heavily, and he ran his long, forked tongue over his lips once or twice before he realized what he was doing. “Ahem. Well. Back to our _game_ , Callie.”

“Mmm. Of course.”

Caliborn was careful not to step on the hem of his overcoat as he went to sit back down. “King to C8,” he said, sounding almost wistful.

  “Queen to F7.”

“Rrrr. Rook to D8.”

“Rook to E1.”

“Queen to H2. Finally. I get to dictate the… _specifics_ of our… _kissssss_.”

_Oh, boy_ , Calliope thought with a sigh. _He’s probably going to kiss my hand. Yawn._

And that was exactly what Caliborn did, but it was more enjoyable than she’d expected. Not because of the sensation itself – that was nothing special – but because of the notion that her obnoxious roommate could actually be…gentlemanly. It was nice.

“Well,” Calliope said once they’d returned to their seats. “How about…pawn to G4.”

“Rook to B8.”

“Queen to E7.”

After a substantial pause to think, Caliborn said “Bishop to G4,” and knocked the pawn over. This time, he reached not for Calliope’s hand, but her face. Leaning in, Caliborn flicked his tongue out to brush against her cheeks several times in quick succession. It felt warm and damp against her skin and tickled slightly.

“O- _oh_ …”

“Yes. You like that, don’t you, Callie? You little slut.”

“Oh, sod off! And don’t even try to pretend you weren’t acting twice as aroused as I am now just a little while ago when all we did was nuzzle noses!” Calliope pushed him away and sat back down, crossing her arms.

Caliborn growled back, “Fuck me!”

“W… _what_?”

He was practically frothing with rage  now. “I meant _you_! Fuck _you_!”

She couldn’t help but giggle. “Pawn to G4. Off with your trousers~!”

Caliborn took his pants off with the sort of clumsy overdramatic motions that are commonly exhibited by children who are angry about really stupid things. This only made Calliope laugh harder as she watched him flail about, nearly trip over his preposterously large overcoat several times, and finally fling the garment across the room. Caliborn’s pants landed on Calliope’s desk, right on top of her drawing tablet. 

Her laughter faded when she noticed that Caliborn was sporting the cherub equivalent of a raging erection. “Oh. Ah, well, well, well…” She picked up again with a different sort of laughter.

He simply glared at Calliope and pulled the ridiculous coat around himself to cover it up.

“Why are you still wearing that silly old thing?” she asked. “I’m honestly curious.”

“Because,” Caliborn replied haughtily, “it offers me additional modesty. And it makes me look like a fucking pimp.”

Calliope giggled one last time. “Whatever you say, love. It’s your move, you know.” 

Caliborn muttered darkly and seated himself across from her again. “Knight to B7.”

Calliope examined the board. She could capture one of his rooks right now, but then he could take her queen with the other one, so she decided that was a bad idea. Wait a minute… _one_ of his rooks? “Oh, _bloody hell_!” she groaned. “I must’ve miscounted!”

“The fuck do you mean? Not that I’m surprised you’d fuck up.”

“Just look at the chessboard, Cal! You have your king and five pawns left, as well as two rooks and your queen! But you only have on your knickers and that color-changing monstrosity you call an overcoat. And likewise, I too am wearing one thing fewer than the number of pieces I have left minus my king and pawns…”

He counted the remaining pieces. “Haa. Haa. Haa _haa_ haa. You’re right, Callie. You counted wrong. So not only are you an ugly, talentless whore, you’re also, as you would so idiotically word it, ‘absolutely rubbish at maths!’”

“Oh, would you just shut up! You know, if you weren’t so unbelievably rude all the time, I would be more than willing to do this sort of thing with you more often!”

“Thus proving the point that I have made. That you are a slut.”

For a split second, Calliope considered ragequitting. But if she flipped the board over and stormed off, the game would be over and all of the sexual tension that had been building between them would just hang there like lightning in the air, tormenting them both. Or worse, Caliborn might decide that a forfeit on her part would grant him permission to do whatever he wanted with her. No. Calliope wanted to win. She wanted to be the one in control. “Oh, never mind. Let’s just get on with the game, and as far as the extra pieces are concerned, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Smashing. How about…ah. Pawn to G5.”

“Pawn to B5.”

“Knight to C3.”

“Pawn to B4.”

“Hmmm…you sure do want that knight, don’t you? Knight to D5.”

“Queen to G3.”

“Knight to C7.” Calliope tipped over the pawn next to his king.

When Caliborn stood up to accept the kiss his opponent had won the right to, he was immensely surprised when she knelt down in front of him to pull the sides of his coat out away from his body. “W-what are you doing?!”

Calliope screwed up her face as she slowly pressed her lips against the front of his boxers. It wasn’t especially pleasant for her, but the way Caliborn squirmed and moaned in response made it more than worth it.

He seemed visibly shaken as he announced his next move: “...N-n-Knight to B6...” 

“Knight to D5. Check~!”

“King to A6.”

“Queen to F7.”

“Queen to G5! Take _that_ , Callie!”

“Oh, no,” she deadpanned. “Whatever shall I do. You captured one of my pawns with your queen. You are officially the lord of chess.”

“I’m going to kiss you on your dirty little mouth,” Caliborn said, ignoring his opponent’s sarcasm. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“Oh, boy. Take me now.”

But it was much better than Calliope had expected. Caliborn slid one hand behind her head and gently caressed her cheek with the other. He spent a few seconds gazing lovingly into her eyes – which made her blush in spite of herself – and then… he very, very gently bit down on her lower lip, just lightly enough to not draw blood. Then Caliborn slid his tongue into Calliope’s mouth, not even bothering to avoid her teeth.

It was a full five minutes before they stepped away from each other, panting and blushing and wiping the saliva from their lips.  When they finally returned to the board, they avoided making eye contact.

“Knight to C7,” Calliope said. “Check.”

“King to B6.”

“Bishop to E3. Che~eck!”

“Queen to E3. Mm-hmm-hmm- _hm_ …”

Calliope took her t-shirt off slowly. If Caliborn thought she couldn’t tell he was staring at her slender, bony chest, he was wrong. But she didn’t mind. However, Calliope didn’t feel so happy about her padded undershirt – worn for her cosplay to emulate the vestigial breasts female trolls have – being visible. She would rather have something over it or nothing on her chest at all. Seeing it like that was an unpleasant reminder that she was playing at being something else. It spoiled the fun by ruining the illusion even further than her skeletal form, bright green fangs, and untrollishly prominent cheekbones already did.

Suddenly, Calliope found herself itching to be out of these clothes. But it simply wouldn’t do to lose on purpose! “Knight to A8.”  

_Oops._

Caliborn grinned lasciviously when he noticed her mistake. “Rook to A8!”

Calliope figured she would take off her undershirt now. It wasn’t like it was actually supporting anything, anyway. And her opponent was even happier to see it go than she was. “Hmm. Queen to C4.” 

“Queen to F2.”

As Calliope leaned forward to reach one of her pieces on the far side of the board and tease Caliborn with a better view of her small (even by cherub standards) breasts, she lost her balance. She instinctively caught herself with her hands, sending little red and green chessmen toppling over, scattering and rolling like bowling pins. “Bloody fucking hell!”

Caliborn started cackling and Calliope surprised herself with her reaction. She echoed his laughter, nonchalantly sweeping the rest of the pieces off of the board with her bare arms.

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

“What do you _think_ I’m doing, love?” Calliope purred. She had no idea where she was going with this, but she’d be damned if she was going to stop. Something in Caliborn’s eyes told her he would be more than willing to ‘play nice’ with her for once…and then some. 

Calliope pulled herself up onto the now-empty chess table to stand above him, still clad in only her skirt and panties.

“And again, I ask. What the _fuck_ are you doing?”

“Something I would do a whole lot more often if you weren’t such an insufferable arse all the time!”

“Oh. Callie. Dear, sweet, _depraved_ Calliope…Do you really mean to say that you intend to —oh, _fuuuuck_ , I can hardly believe I’m saying this, it’s so fucked up — _make love_ to me?”

“I swear, Caliborn, sometime I think you must be more dense than anyone else who ever lived! _Yes_ , we are going to shag _right now_ , and if you so much as _contemplate_ calling me a ‘dirty whore’ or _anything of the sort_ for engaging in _tender lovemaking_ with you, then so help me, I will tear your face to shreds and finish without you, _do you hear me?_!”

“Oh, I hear you, d-darling…nnnnn…” Caliborn reached up to claw at the fabric of Calliope’s panties, carefully tearing across the bottom panel. She squeaked and tried to press herself against his fingers, but he smiled and shook his head, then cut through either side of the garment so that it fell away completely.

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” Calliope whispered, stepping out of her ruined panties to climb down onto Caliborn’s lap. He seemed to respond more to the exotic phrase than to her new position, so Calliope said it again and again. And she meant it more than she could hope to explain. “I love you, Caliborn. I love you…” 

Every time those words reached him, he bucked his hips almost involuntary, pressing and rubbing against Calliope through his boxers. She shredded them with her claws, drawing blood —just a tiny drop of bright, bright red—from his left hip by accident. Caliborn struggled to keep his hands still as he watched Calliope carefully slip out of her skirt and drop it on the floor. 

As she shifted herself to press her body against his, Calliope paused to take a good look at Caliborn. She couldn’t quite read his face — she’d never seen that expression before. It seemed to be some strange and delightful combination of ecstasy, menace, and adoration. Little did she know, her features formed the very same.

Caliborn shifted his weight and wrapped his arms tightly around her, trying to rise from the chair as she continued to rub herself against him, cooing softly.

  “Mmm…what are you doing?”

“I am trying to be a _gentleman_ , Callie, and carry you to the bed.”

“Oh my…that’s a-actually quite thoughtful of you…” Calliope stopped moving so she could wrap her arms around Caliborn’s shoulders. He managed to slide one arm across the bottom of her thighs and the other around her waist. After a few moments of struggling, he was able to lift Calliope and walk over to the nearest bed (which happened to be hers) while she clung tightly to him.

“Aren’t you going to take off that hideous coat?” she asked Caliborn as he set her down on the edge of her bed.

“Of. Fucking. _Course_. Not,” he answered, gritting his teeth with disgust at the very thought of it. “Besides, don’t you think it would be nice to be all wrapped up in it with me? You did that during one of our kisses. Don’t think I didn’t notice.” 

Calliope had to admit he was right, even if the blasted thing was starting to give her a headache with its ridiculous color-changing striped trim. She sighed. “Oh, alright. Fine, you can keep your stupid overcoat on.”

“Glad you’re finally starting to see things my way, Callie.” Caliborn ran his tongue across his upper lip and let his gaze soften. “Now, be a… _dear_ …and make yourself comfortable, won’t you?”

Calliope complied, sliding herself backwards until she was entirely on the bed. “Come here, love,” she murmured, “I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

Caliborn climbed up so he could lie on top of Calliope. “Help me get my arms out of these never-ending fucking sleeves.”

Once his arms were free, he wasted no time in spreading the coat over himself and Calliope like a blanket. She was honestly surprised at how soft and warm it was. She wrapped her arms around Caliborn, running one hand up and down his back gently. He gazed affectionately down at her and caressed her face as he slowly worked his way into her, as gently as he could so he wouldn’t hurt her. Before today, he would have loved to hurt Calliope under most circumstances, but he was beginning to realize that treating her tenderly was even more enjoyable.

“Unf…I… _mmm_ …I love you, Calliope. _Fuuuuuck_ , I feel so unbelievably dirty just saying that out loud…”

She sighed happily, panted, “I love you, too,” and then crashed her mouth against his to keep him from saying anything more.  

* * *

They never even ended up arguing about who won the chess match. They did, however, engage shortly thereafter in gratuitous amounts of the most perverted activity known to their species: post-sex cuddling. It is far too explicit to be described here, as someone might become offended.


End file.
